Fringe
by sidewaysgrace
Summary: Seventy four years, numbness, an unlikely confidant, and learning to feel again. Three quarters of a century in the dark on the edge does things to you. Two-shot. New Moon AU. Canon, slight OOC.
1. Remember Me as a Time of Day

**Fringe**

**Chapter 1**

**Remember Me as a Time of Day**

Seventy-four years is a long time, by many standards.

For most, it's nearly a lifespan, stretched out over growth, love, heartache, joy, grief, and life. Spent with the ones you love, the years pass slowly, filled each second with memories, moments you won't get back, so you treasure them, knowing that they might be your last. Knowing that you are never the same person you were, and in the next minute you will be someone else entirely, makes those seventy-four years worth living.

For someone who doesn't change, however, seventy-four years can be a living hell. An endless cycle, doomed to repeat itself on the loneliest fringes of society.

Death is an acquaintance far too familiar, though not intimately acknowledged. From afar, you watch the world you once shared crumble into ash as future generations prepare to make their own mark on the world you left behind.

It is not an existence for the faint of heart.

Good thing I'd given mine up years ago.

I'd learned early on that the best way to survive was to numb myself from anything that could be a potential threat to my existence. This was, of course, after a decade of contemplating Italy and all it offered, before deciding I couldn't do it, and I should at least try to make a living.

Living. The word was almost humorous for one in my situation. I would have laughed had I been able.

Yes, numbness was a crucial part of my existence, for lack of a better word. Existing in the loneliest corners of the world, gaining companions in books and knowledge alone, I'd resigned myself to living the life of a wanted man.

Except for the fact that I was neither a man nor wanted.

The former I was thankful for, but the latter gave me pause, and it was in those moments of weakness I gave myself over entirely to the black. The black was safe; neither warming nor content, but pure nothingness was far better than any pain I could have subjected myself to.

That thought brought me back to where I was currently standing, in perhaps my worst idea to date. In all my efforts to numb myself, I was now faced with one of the few things that could possibly worm its way into my stone heart and split the crack of vulnerability wide open.

Like I said, it was a horrible idea.

And yet here I stood, in the rain, over a smooth stone and an empty grave.

One that should hold my body, but didn't and never would.

And I was the only one who knew it.

They say coming face to face with your own mortality is a life changing experience, but I'd wager to say coming face to face with your own immortality is even more terrifying, especially if you are alone.

I thought back to when I'd practically begged for this life. It was a dangerous place in my mind to go, but once the thought came, the rest of the memories came unbidden, flowing through my flawless mind without permission. Apparently I'd retained more of my human memories than most, according to the very few others I spoke to. It was something I could have done without.

With the memories came the names, and then the faces, and then his face. It was there, burned into my memory forever, like a brand. He had branded me his, and even if he no longer wanted to be mine, that fact would never change. It was something I was reminded of daily, because no matter how hard I tried to push him and the others into the black, they would never stay. I wished they would stay.

I wished they would have stayed.

I remained unmoving over my grave, though really only a metaphor, and willed the thoughts back to the blackness. He pleaded with me to let him stay. If I weren't a vampire I would have thought myself insane. I certainly had thought I'd crossed over during the last of my human months.

Dusk was settling over the tiny cemetery, and the rain had slowed. I had used to love this time of day, where the day met the night and in the gray twilight they passed the day from one to the next.

Now, it was the time I most often surrendered to the blackness, needing to forget, lest my undead, stone cold heart crack open at its widest seam.

He was twilight to me. The absolute embodiment; the personification of dusk. Bordering on two worlds he sat, perched on the edge of the knife, trying desperately to cling to his humanity while he struggled with the reality of what he'd become.

I'd never fully understood the struggle until I had to face it myself.

And now I was as he was, and I'd forever remember him as that time of day.

I willed the night to approach sooner; just swallow the day whole and plunge us into the inky black that offered little comfort, but so many places to hide. If I could just stay hidden; hidden from the world, from the light, from my own mind, I could make it another day.

I wasn't sure how long I stood there, it might have been hours or minutes, I couldn't tell at the moment. Getting lost in one's own mind is exceptionally easy if it's as vast as a vampire's.

I knew that some part of my brain had registered the approach of another, but didn't take heed until I realized they were standing right behind me.

I turned and nearly fainted, if such a thing were possible for the undead. Fortunately, they looked equally shocked, if not more so.

She looked nothing like I remembered, and yet everything like it. I could see my human eyes had been too dull to do her any kind of justice. She was Aphrodite, long and curvy, and possibly the most gorgeous creature to grace the earth.

She held a bouquet of freesias in her hand, and wore a look of utter shock on her perfect face.

"I thought you were dead."

"I am."

It's the first words I've spoken in over a year, and my voice sounds strange, even to me. Apparently to her too, as the expression of shock is still etched in her flawless features.

She looks from me to the grave behind me and then back to me. It would have been amusing, except it's not.

"You're not in there, and I'm pretty sure you're not a ghost."

"Not by the traditional sense of the word, no."

She looks conflicted for a moment, before resolve settles in her features. She reaches a perfectly sculpted arm out, offering me the heady bouquet she carries. "These were for you," she glances pointedly at the grave, "but I guess since you're here, I can deliver them in person."

"Why are you here?" The question is off my tongue before I can stop it, and I'm shocked that I'm still talking. Inside my mind I am frantically pushing everything into the black; like an overstuffed closet it keeps pushing back. I think that I remain calm on the outside, because her expression doesn't change.

"Do you want to go sit somewhere? I think we need to talk." She doesn't wait for an answer, but puts the flowers in one of my hands and grabs the other before leading us to a little gazebo in the middle of the cemetery. The physical contact is unnerving. I don't think I've touched another since I was changed.

Once inside, we sit on opposite sides of the small enclosure while rain scatters on the roof. She looks pensive, and confused, and conflicted, and gorgeous as ever.

"I know we didn't exactly know each other back when…well, you know." She leans back, the picture of grace as she crosses her ankles and reclines elegantly on the bench. If anyone were to see her, they would think her other-worldly. It would be an accurate description."I know that's my fault. I was kind of a bitch." I almost laugh, which surprises me, and she raises her eyes to mine, gauging my reaction. I keep my face neutral.

She sighs, leaning back against the wooden pillar. "I don't know what words you want to hear, or if you even want to hear anything. Christ, I don't even know how to speak rationally right now. My mind is reeling. We thought you were dead, and now…" As she says the last part she leans forward, cradling her head in her hands. The crack in her perfectly manicured façade is unsettling.

"Why are you alone?" Again, I'm not sure why I'm still talking. And to her. Not that I hold anything against her. In fact I completely understand her now, but we'd never been particularly close, and after hardly speaking to anyone for nearly seventy-five years, I wonder why I suddenly feel the acute need to share anything with her, and even more confused as to why I find myself wanting to tell her _everything._ She looks as surprised as I do.

"Well…the others came here a week ago. Most of them, anyways. I couldn't do it. Not yet. I…felt…I felt… guilty." She averts her eyes again as she utters the last words. I am shocked, but she doesn't look finished, so I let her continue her train of thought. "Back…you know when, I was so angry. I was so jealous. You had everything, and you were going to give it up to be like _us_. But then…God, I was just so wrong. I could see what it did to them, to all of them, to us, when we left." I cringe, involuntarily, and she looks apologetic.

"Yeah, see? And so for all these years I prayed you'd found a better life. That maybe if you were happy it would make up for everything else." I wonder what she's talking about, and also what exactly it did to the others when they left. "And then, two weeks ago, Alice snapped. She said she couldn't do it anymore, and she had to know. And then we found out about…you know…" She motions back towards the grave and I nod. The story of my 'kidnapping' and probable murder had been big news in Forks. "And god…it crushed me. More than I would have thought possible. Jasper couldn't even stay in the house anymore."

"I still don't understand. He said he didn't want me, that he didn't love me. That it was better for everyone if we just had a clean break. Why was everyone so upset?" I try to beat back the door of panic that threatens when I acknowledge him out loud, and shove down all memory of that day.

Rosalie's face drops in shock. "He said that to you?" I can only nod. She growls, and her gaze is murderous. "That bastard." Her words surprise me, though I suppose after everything she's said so far, nothing else she says should surprise me anymore.

"Why? I mean, it was true."

She looks at me, a mix of emotions playing out across her features. "God, what did he do to you?" I think it's rhetorical, so I don't answer. She shakes her head, perfect gold curls swirling about her elegant shoulders. "He so didn't deserve you." I'm not sure how to answer that either, so I stay silent.

"How exactly did this…happen, if you don't mind my asking?" She catches my gaze, curiosity and genuine concern float in her eyes. They're nearly black.

I take a deep, unnecessary breath. I have never told anyone the story. I never had anyone to tell. And it surprises me how much I want to tell her.

"It was March of the year you all…left." My voice catches, but she doesn't say anything. "I was alone at the house and then Victoria showed up."

Rosalie's eyebrows nearly recede into her hairline. "You mean the mate of…"

"Yeah. That one. She wanted to get back at…him, for killing James. Mate for mate, she said." I almost chuckle at the irony. "She could have saved herself a lot of trouble."

"I'm not going to touch that one right now, but I will. Later. But why didn't she kill you?"

I suck in another deep breath. "She tried. Believe me. She ran me out to the baseball clearing. I don't know how many days we were there, it could have only been hours…but she said she wouldn't just kill me, she'd make me suffer." I shudder, remembering, cursing whatever sick twist of fate ensured I retained all of my most painful human memories. I can't bring myself to look up at Rosalie. "She had just bitten me when the wolves descended, literally. They killed her, but were too late to stop the change. They told me I had to leave once I was done, and that they were sorry. So I did. I think I ran to Canada, and then Alaska for a while. I wasn't really sure a lot of the time."

"God…so you've just been…alone, all this time?" I finally look back to her eyes and am stunned by the compassion and sadness that lingers there. I just nod. "Christ, Bella. Bloody hell." She shakes her head, incredulously, as if in a daze. I linger on the name, as no one's called my by that name in a long count of years. She cocks her head at my wondering stare.

"It's nothing…just…no one's called me that in a long time."

"Oh. What do people call you then?"

"They don't."

He face softens and she gives me an apologetic stare. "Oh."

"Yeah."

She's pensive for another half moment, before the resolve from earlier makes an appearance. "Hey, so do you maybe want to come back to the house and see everyone?" I freeze. The door in my mind rattles and groans on its worn hinges. She seems to notice my apprehension. "He won't be there."

I relax infinitesimally, but am also disappointed. "Oh. I still don't know if I could…handle that though." She nods, understanding.

"I know. I can't imagine what this must be like for you. I mean it was hard on us, but we had each other. And you…" Pain flashes in her eyes; a shared pain. "You were alone." The words are small, but then I understand. I don't know her full story, but she understands. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"You really don't have any reason to be, but thank you."

She looks at me curiously. "You really are a strange one, aren't you?"

"I suppose I am."

We look at each other a moment longer, and then she laughs. It catches me off guard, but she throws her head back and lets out the loveliest sound. I don't think I know the sound of my own laughter, but I hope it sounds like hers. Like a chorus of angels or the pealing of church bells; it's lovely.

"Bella Swan, I really have missed you." She strides over to my side of the gazebo, and before I know what she's doing, I'm off the bench and in her arms. If I'd thought her hand in mine was startling, it's nothing compared to this.

"You're hugging me." She pulls back, suddenly sobered and concerned.

"Is that not okay?"

"It's not that…it's…" I struggle for words, which is new. But then again, usually I don't need any. "I haven't ever actually…hugged anyone. Or touched anyone, really."

Her eyes widen. "My God. Bella…Fuck, I knew it was bad, but…You're really alone, aren't you?"

I nod. She appraises me for a moment before tucking me back in her arms. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." Her voice is full of heartbreak.

I don't know what it is, but suddenly I feel tired of fighting. I'm tired of pushing everything into the black, and I'm tired of being alone. I melt into her, and we stand, arms wrapped around each other, sharing nothing and everything while the night devours the day.

"It's late." I state the obvious, though still content to remain as we are. She laughs lightly and pulls away. I immediately miss the contact, and it tears at the seams in my heart a bit.

"If you haven't noticed, sweetheart, time doesn't really apply to us."

"I've noticed." I give her a wry smile, and she seems pleased. I think I am too. After living void of emotion for nearly three quarters of a century, it's strange to suddenly start feeling again. I'm not sure if I like it or not.

"Right. Well, are you certain I can't convince you to come back with me?" She looks at me hopefully, and I am about to say I can't, but her wording gives me pause. After all this time, I feel like I have someone again. Someone on my side. It is the absolute most unlikely person ever, and yet that is who is here with me. And maybe if I did see the others, I wouldn't be alone. I would go back _with_ her.

"I think…maybe I could…try." Her smile lights up her face, and I am stunned by its radiance. Rosalie rarely smiled when I knew her, and this, in all its vampiric glory, is brilliant; stunning. I wonder she doesn't give every man a heart attack just walking down the street.

"Thank you." I must look confused, because she smiles and explains. "Just…I know that this isn't easy, but I've been beating myself up for nearly three quarters of a century, and then seeing you here, and knowing you're willing to at least try to take me back…just, thank you."

I think if I could have cried, I would have, and that freaks me out a bit. Rosalie sees my hesitation, so she loops her arm through mine and pulls me out into the slight drizzle of a dark night.

"Are you ready?" The question is loaded, but I nod, hoping I really am.

She smiles, and takes off, grabbing my hand until we break out into a run.

What we're going to find, I can't yet say, but I am already feeling lighter than I have in years. And for the first time, I'm running toward something, and not away from it.

And I think I like it.


	2. Have You Passed Through This Night

**Chapter 2**

**Have You Passed Through This Night**

_This great evil - where's it come from?  
How'd it steal into the world?  
What seed, what root did it grow from?  
Who's doing this?  
Who's killing us, robbing us of life and light, mocking us with the sight of what we mighta known?  
Does our ruin benefit the earth, does it help the grass to grow or the sun to shine?  
Is this darkness in you, too?  
Have you passed through this night?_

_-Explosions in the Sky, _Have You Passed Through This Night

It was nearing midnight by the time Rosalie slowed her run. I dropped pace to linger by her side. The woods were dense, and I guessed we were somewhere in Canada judging by the length and direction of the run. Rosalie slowed to a stop, and I did the same.

"We're about five miles out from the house now. I just wanted to give you a chance to change your mind." She put a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"No, I'm okay. I think I can do this. Didn't Alice see me coming, though?" Rose turns to face me fully, and the expression on her face tells me she hadn't thought about that.

"Now that you mention it, no. In the beginning...he told her not to look, and she didn't, but then when she tried later on she could never see anything. It frustrated her but it had been years at that point, so she wondered if you had just dropped off her radar." I nod. It makes sense. "So you really sure you're okay?"

It's still taking me some time to get used to this Rosalie, but I am beginning to. Actually, it's taking some time just to get used to being around another person. "Yeah, I am. Thank you." And then, I smile. It takes both her and I by surprise, and she responds by returning it with a brilliant one of her own.

"Alright, then. Let's go." She grabs my hand once more, and we're flying.

This is one aspect of this life that I love. The running. Sometimes I would just run and run and run for days and weeks on end; never tiring, always flying. It was fabulous, and made me forget everything.

It takes no time, and we're almost there before I'm ready, but I suck it up and close the door on the black, needing to be in as much control of myself as possible. Rosalie's hand on my arm is strangely comforting, and I hope she keeps it there.

The house is nice; large, extravagant. Very much befitting a home of vampires.

There are five steps leading up to the porch, and fourteen slats of wood between the steps and the front door. Rosalie hesitates a perfectly manicured hand on the door knob and gives me a measuring look, to which I respond with a nod.

She smiles comfortingly, and then leads me inside.

The house is brimming with seven distinct scents, layered over every surface. It smells lovely and comforting and familiar.

I hear footsteps coming from what I assume is the kitchen, and then Esme rounds the corner, a crystal vase in her hands. She is warm and enchanting as ever. She doesn't see me at first.

"Rose, there you are, darling. We weren't expecting you back for some…" Her eyes suddenly lock onto me, and I think if vampires could faint, she would. The vase slips from her hands and hits the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces and creating a dainty, broken orchestra. Her hand flies up to cover her mouth and she utters a single, "Oh, my…" before four other vampires descend on the room.

It is eerily quiet, and Rosalie squeezes my hand comfortingly while I am scrutinized incredulously by a room full of shocked, undead beings.

It's almost uncomfortable, so I tentatively raise a hand. "Um…hello."

And then, fast for even a vampire, I am scooped up into a muscular embrace. "Holy hell, Bells! It's really you!" Emmett picks me up and swings me in a circle so fast, if I were human I'd have surely been motion sick. "I can't believe it!"

"Emmett put her down! Put her down! I need to hug her!" Emmett drops me, reluctantly, and then it's tiny fairy arms that grip like steel; an interesting contrast to the brawn of the last hug. "I can't believe you're here! I can't believe you're alive! I can't believe I didn't see this!" She starts jumping up and down into our hug, and as thrilled as I am that they seem to be happy to see me, having no contact for nearly seventy five years and then be thrown back into it is a bit overwhelming.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and watched as Jasper put his other on Alice. She calms and stops jumping, and I throw him a grateful, tentative smile. Alice pulls back, beaming brilliantly. Jasper steps in front of her, taking both my hands in his. He looks apologetic, chagrined, and slightly worried.

"Bella…I'm so sorry. It was my fault you had to leave all those years ago…" I put up a hand for him to stop, and he looked surprised.

"Jasper, stop that now. It was not your fault. You were only doing what came naturally, and I can't blame you for that. And it'd not your fault. Edward didn't love me, so he left. I'm only sorry I never got the chance to say goodbye to any of you." Jasper had an unreadable expression on his face, and the rest of the family looked stunned as well.

Carlisle approached, settling a smile onto his face before wrapping an arm around me.

"Bella, my dear. It seems we have a lot to talk about. Would you come sit, please?" He took my hand, gracious and elegant as he was, and led me to a couch in what I thought must be the living room. Rosalie came to sit by me, thankfully. I knew it was strange, but she seemed to have a calming effect on me. Whether because of what we'd shared back at the cemetery or something else I wasn't sure, but I was definitely grateful for it.

The others filed in and took seats around the room, while Carlisle sat on my other side on the couch. "Well, I'm sure you realize what a shock this is." I nodded, giving him a wry smile which he returned. "We just found out two weeks ago about what…supposedly happened, and now you're here. Life really is much more exciting with you in it, my dear." He chuckled lightly, and I smiled again. It felt nice.

"It certainly is, Bella." Esme stood from her chair, making her way over to me for the first time. Her eyes were shining, and I was sure that if she could, she would be crying. She wrapped me in an embrace and hugged me tightly. "Oh I'm just so glad you're still with us." She pulled away, smiling and eyes sparkling. "It has been so dull without you, dear."

"I'll second that motion! Hell, Bella. I still can't believe you're alive!" I grimaced, and Emmett grinned sheepishly. "Well, you know what I mean."

"I do."

"I still don't know why I didn't see you. Why didn't I see you? I should have seen you coming, Bella!" Alice's voice raised to a frantic pitch.

"Alice, calm down. I have no idea why you can't see me." It felt strange to say her name out loud.

Jasper spoke up, still looking worried. "I can't feel your emotions either, and to be honest it's really freaking me out." And then it clicked.

"Oh! My shield! That must be why you guys can't get a read on me."

Six pairs of golden eyes fixed their gaze on me. "Your what, Bella?" Carlisle looked confused and also thrilled at the thought of new information.

"My shield. I discovered it a few years in when one nomad I came across couldn't use his power on me. It's like there's this elastic in my mind that protects it, and then another that kind of stays on top of my skin. I can retract it, but I've never really had to." I think that's the most I've ever spoken at once.

"Fascinating." Carlisle truly looked fascinated. "Do you think you could try it now? Perhaps then Jasper could read your emotions."

"Um, sure." I retreated into my mind and separated the elastic from my body, pushing it out. Jasper gasped and Alice's eyes glazed over. I snapped it back, thinking something had gone wrong. "Are you all right? I didn't hurt you did I? I've never really tried that before on another vampire."

Jasper still looked to be in shock, but Alice was bouncing happily. "This is amazing!"

"I'll say." Jasper looked at me with wonder.

"Will someone please explain to me what the heck just happened?" Emmett was looking rapidly back and forth among the three of us, and I could feel Rosalie fidgeting beside me.

"I could feel her." Jasper's eyes contain all the loneliness I've felt, and I turned my stare apologetic. I hadn't meant for him to feel that.

"And Bella I saw you! And…well, I need to go make a phone call." With that she jumped up and dashed from the room.

"Um…that was…interesting." I tried to hear where Alice had gone, but she was already out of earshot.

Carlisle chuckled. "Like we said, dear Bella, life is infinitely more exciting with you around."

Jasper was still looking at me curiously, and I felt Rosalie lace her hand with mine. I turned and gave her a grateful smile, which seemed to please her immensely. Jasper gave an audible sigh.

"What is it, Jasper?" I turned to face him, loving the smile that covered his face. I had never noticed how truly scarred he was; he screamed danger but the smile on his face suggested he was anything but.

"Bella…" He began hesitantly, as if unsure how to proceed. "You really don't know how important you are to this family. After all these years, it's nice to get a bit of relief." I'm sure I looked confused, because he chuckled. "As an empath, in a house full of people feeling tremendous guilt and grief…" He trailed off and I gasped.

"Oh, Jasper. I'm so sorry you had to endure that." I was.

He looked at me curiously again. "Bella Swan, you are truly like no other."

I raised an eyebrow, but he didn't elaborate. Alice danced back into the room at that moment, smiling widely. "He's coming home. He'll be here before dawn." My stone heart caught in my throat.

"Who, Alice?" She looked at me incredulously.

"Edward, of course." I wasn't sure if it was possible for a vampire to have a panic attack, but the blackness in my mind was pushing back with such force it took nearly all my concentration to contain it. The vulnerable seam in my heart split wider.

"Alice, I don't know if I can…" I couldn't bring myself to finish. I needed to run. I needed to clear my head and beat everything back into the blackness before it overwhelmed me. "I'm so sorry, everyone. I need a moment."

I rose, not waiting for an answer before I was out the door and running. I could hear Rosalie behind me, yelling about something. I ignored it, and pushed my legs, one after the other.

I ran.

I ran.

I ran.

I've never stopped running.

I don't know how long I ran, or how far, but when I reached wherever I was, I felt sufficiently numb. Perhaps I could face him. The others seemed to welcome me back, so it was the least I could do.

I hated feeling weak. I hated feeling insecure. I hated feeling, at the moment.

I felt cursed in this life. Becoming what I was should have healed all wounds, but I had been ushered in broken. Physically, I knew I was flawless. An immortal being etched in stone for all eternity. There were no scars, no bruises, no pain to remind me of what brought me into this life, and yet inside I was bleeding. The crack of vulnerability was wide and swallowed into it every lie I had been told.

Could I face him?

Could I face the one who had left me to enter into this life of eternal night, doomed to skirt around the edges of a former life on the very fringes of a society that once welcomed me?

I rationalized that it wasn't his fault. He hadn't known what leaving me would do. He hadn't known that Victoria would come seeking her revenge. He hadn't known that I had entered into his world unbidden; alone and broken.

My rationalization cracked when my heart screamed. Undead and broken, it screamed at me. He must have known. How could he not have seen? He had brought me into his world, and then left me to suffer it alone.

And yet I could not blame him. Try as I might to find some way to push guilt, fear, blame, hate on him, I could not do it. And I felt weak.

Could I face him?

I ran.

It was nearing dawn when I found myself back at the house.

Rosalie was sitting on the porch, casual in her flawless grace.

"I was hoping you'd be back."

"I don't know if I am."

She raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, but doesn't comment.

"He's not here yet." I'm sure my relief was palpable. "But he will be soon." She gives me a calculating, pointed look. "You don't have to do this. He doesn't know yet and you don't owe him anything."

"I think I need to." I don't know where the words come from, but they're there, and I find myself wanting to believe them.

She raises another eyebrow, but nods, understanding. "I told the others to back off." She motions toward the house. "Alice is going nuts, but she'll give you the space you need."

"Thanks. It wasn't her. She just…caught me off guard." I'm sure they can hear me inside the house.

"I figured." We sit and stand in silence for a few moments more. "Do you want to wait inside, or stay out here?"

I pause. I hadn't really thought about the actual meeting. "I guess inside?" It comes out like a question. Rosalie raises that eyebrow again. She's far too good at that. I think Emmett probably gets nothing past her with that calculating stare. "I mean, inside. Could you…I mean…no offense to the others, but…" I struggle for the words again, not wanting to sound ungrateful.

"You want me to wait with you?" I nod, thanking her silently for finding the words. She looks pleased, and holds a finger up, cautioning me to wait while she runs inside. She's back not a moment later, and steps forward to take my hand. "Come on. The others are upstairs. They understand." She grins. "Well, mostly."

We make our way inside, reclining on the same white sofa as before. The texture is soft and I find myself petting it. I haven't had much need for furniture.

We sit in a comfortable silence, and I find myself infinitely grateful that she doesn't push.

Then, before I think I'm ready, there are footsteps outside. Long, measured strides and a confident, but delaying gait. The front door opens and there's his voice before there's him.

"Alright, Alice. Just what the hell is so damned important you couldn't tell me over the…" he reaches the living room and stops, mid stride, mid sentence, as his gaze falls on me. I haven't ever heard him curse, and I like it more than I should.

He's more than I remember. Even for a vampire, he's truly spectacular. The line of his jaw, the cut of his shoulders, the angle of his body, the unruliness of his hair. He's stunning.

And stunned it seems, as he hasn't moved since he set foot in the room.

The first movement he makes is shocking. He sinks to his knees, as though unable to stand any longer. He hasn't taken his eyes off me; hasn't blinked; hasn't spoken a word.

But then again, neither have I.

I can't avert my gaze; can't move from under his penetrating stare. His brand on my heart burns, telling me it's still there; calling out for me to claim him, tell him we're still his.

He still hasn't moved, and I wonder if he's gone into shock, if that's even possible. Then, he's in front of me. I feel Rosalie stiffen by my side, and I squeeze her hand reassuringly, letting her know I'm okay while trying to convince myself I am.

He raises a hand towards my face, and I unconsciously lean forward into his touch. He traces my cheekbone with his fingertips as though trying to convince himself I'm real.

"You…you were dead."

I summon all my courage and beat back everything into the blackness in the fringes of my subconscious.

"I was."

I'm not sure why those words make their way off my tongue first. I was dead; am dead. Am dead. Why did I say was? Why is my undead heart screaming frantically as though trying to beat?

"Where… where have you been?"

"Around."

He pauses before bringing up his other hand so both are caressing my face. His touch is electrifying; my entire body is humming, trilling with energy. His fingertips leave paths of fire in their wake across my skin. My entire body is ablaze.

"Why didn't you come find me?"

Now I pause. What the hell does that mean? I feel a surge of emotions pass through my body as they escape from the confines of the blackness. Anger, hurt, betrayal, confusion, passion, lust, love, despair. They're all there in spades.

"You left me." It isn't accusing, nor despairing. I feel proud for keeping my emotion out of my voice. I can only hope I've kept it off my face.

He doesn't. His face crumples, as though in the worst kind of pain, and my heart lurches in spite of myself. He looks to be in agony, so severe it would crush a mortal man.

"You believed me." He's still not making sense. I let my confusion show, but keep the hurt that is boiling over quickly under a tight lid.

"Of course. You said you didn't love me."

Shit shit shit. The storm in my head broils, threatening, menacing as it crashes against the walls of my resolve. I shove memory of that day as far back as I can reach. Stay stay stay.

He sinks to his knees once more, and drops his head for the first time, never removing his hands from my face.

"Christ. I fucked up so bad."

The confusion is quickly turning to panic.

"What do you mean?" I'm almost frightened to speak the words, but I do.

"You believed me." He says it again, but I say nothing this time, not trusting myself with words. He lifts his head, eyes meeting mine once more, and I'm paralyzed. "I lied. I lied, Bella." My name on his lips is heaven and hell. The panic is thrashing in full force now.

"Wh…what?"

He takes a lungful of air, shuddering lightly. "Fuck. I lied, that day. Dammit, I lied to you."

"What in the hell are you talking about?" The force of my voice shocks me. I think it's the hysteria talking.

"I was trying to protect you. I wanted you to have a better life. I couldn't curse you, wouldn't damn you to this life, but it seems I fucked that up, too." My head is rolling, thrashing, storming. "God, I just wanted you to do better. I couldn't believe it when you accepted my lie so easily, and to find out you still believe it, after all this time…"

Then it clicks. And I'm angry.

"You lied. To me." He nods. "You lied so I would move on and you wouldn't have to make me like you." He nods, more slowly this time. "Let me ask you something. Did you ever doubt my love?"

He shakes his head, and moves to say something, but I hold up my hand. I'm not done, and I need to do this. This is three quarters of a century in the making.

"Did you really think that I would just get over you? How on earth can you say you didn't doubt my love and then expect me to forget you? Did you not think I loved you as much as you loved me? Did you, Edward?" It's the first time I've spoken his name out loud, and we both shudder with the force of it.

"My god, Bella…" he looks like a lost child, and the seam in my heart splits down the middle. I drop to the floor in front of him, trembling, anger forgotten as the hurt and despair of seventy four years on the edge consumes me.

"How could you leave? How could you doubt the depth of my feelings for you?" I remove one of his hands from my face and place it over my dead, broken heart. "It was only yours. Always, only yours."

He looks as though he might sob any moment. "My god, Bella…" He repeats the words, trembling, as he flexes his fingers against my skin, as though trying to feel what lay beneath. "I never…fuck. I mean, I didn't…" I fear what he'll say; I fear he'll do it again. The rational part of my brain screams at me to run, but I can't. Then, without warning, he crashes his lips to mine in an agonizing, burning kiss.

I give in, and we fight for dominance, wrestling in the most primal of ways as he grips my face and brings me impossibly closer. I hear Rosalie leave the room, and I'd almost forgotten she was here. My hands find their way into his hair; his glorious fucking coppery hair. I pour everything into the kiss. The blackness screams and empties itself, pouring out, over the edge and into the kiss as everything I've kept pent up consumes me; consumes us as we consume each other.

He kisses as though we'd never kissed before and will never kiss again. I tighten my hold to keep him to me, just a bit more. I don't think my heart can take it if he were to leave.

We separate eventually, reluctantly, but he leans his forehead against mine as he brushes his fingertips against my cheekbones once more.

"I know that words will never be enough. I know there will never be anything I can say to make it right. But Christ, I will spend the rest of my days proving to you how bloody fucking sorry I am. How wrong, how wrong I was and how fucking sorry I am. I will prove it to you, and I will prove to you exactly what you are to me. You're everything, love. I know that words will never do it, but you are, and you have to know." He takes one of my hands and mimics my actions from earlier, placing it over his stone heart. "It's yours, Bella. Always has been, always will be."

I could cry. If I could I would, and I find myself wishing, not for the first time, that I could. I sink into him, shuddering with tearless sobs and he wraps his arms around me, locking me in place as though I'll disappear. He kisses my forehead, my nose, my eyelids.

"Bella…my Bella…" He murmurs it against my skin; a promise, an oath. He pulls back, smiling radiantly.

Seventy four years of darkness, on the fringe, and I am home.

Sunlight trickles in through the window as dawn breaks, burying us in an unearthly glow as our skin glitters and glints in the first rays, throwing prisms about the room.

The night gives way to day, and we sit, embracing, falling. Over the edge we tumble, no longer balancing on the edge of the knife, nor hiding in the dark.

We are dawn; we are day.

We are home.


End file.
